


Touch Your Heart

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Aggressive Uno, Alcohol, Anxiety, Bathing/Washing, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Injury, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Childhood Friends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunkenness, Fluff, Friendship, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Loneliness, Minor Injuries, Multi, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Stargazing, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24988546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: A set of short fics and drabbles for Non-Sexual Intimacy Week/FFXV Brotherly Love Week! (Tags to be updated as we go!)Day 1: Ignis isn't sure how comfortable Noctis will actually be in his new apartment.Day 2: Ignis comforts Prompto through an anxious night.Day 3: A long, long time ago, Ignis made Noctis a promise.Day 4: Gladio goes to Noctis after a nightmare.Day 5: After taking a tumble, Gladio needs to get detangled. Luckily, Prompto is there to help clean him up.Day 6: Noctis and his party play a dangerous game in the streets of Lestallum...Day 7: Prompto is injured, and Ignis is there to help patch him up, no matter how serious.Day 8: Game night gets too real with the chocobros.Day 9: Ignis hates to leave, and hates even more for Prompto to watch him go.Day 10: Gladio struggles under the weight of destiny. Ignis comes to help bear the load.Day 11: The simplest things can stave off a difficult day.Day 12: Feverish and weak, Ignis is comforted by a shaking hand.Day 13: Noctis shares the night sky with Prompto, and everything that comes with it.Day 14: The dawn is greeted with laughter and song.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum, Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 129
Kudos: 154
Collections: FFXV Brotherly Love Week





	1. Puppy Pile

**Day 1: Puppy Pile**

Ignis was anxious about Noctis’ first night in the new apartment. As much as Noctis had pleaded with Regis for privacy, for a little more freedom, to have his own place away from the stress of the Citadel, Ignis knew Noctis’ heart just as well as his mouth. For all Noctis wanted space, Ignis still recalled a sobbing four-year-old who would run from the Citadel nursery in the night to dive into his father’s bed. For all Noctis said he wanted privacy, Ignis knew the eight-year-old who would wake in the night, shivering, and call for Ignis until he came and sat in his bed with him until the shadows of his nightmares evaporated. For all Noctis claimed to want to be away, Ignis knew the Noctis who, for the last six years, would wait up until nearly midnight most nights for his father to come and have dinner with him, or spend an hour sitting with him in the Royal study, or to say good night to him, and go to bed disappointed more often than not. 

Ignis knew Noctis, more than anything, wanted company. He wanted his father’s attention, and Ignis at first thought Noctis’ plea to move out was a ploy to get it. Regis, who loved Noctis and wanted his happiness just as much as he, too, wanted more time with his only son, granted him his request. Ignis had to wonder if Regis had considered what Noctis really wanted. Even a promise that Noctis would come to the Citadel for dinner twice a week wasn’t enough to assuage Ignis’ concerns, nor did it change Noctis’ mind about wanting to be away from his home and father. 

Noctis agreed to return home, agreed to having Ignis check on him and bring him anything that needed to be brought to his attention, and agreed to take care of the place to the best of his ability - again, with Ignis’ assistance - and Regis, with reluctance well hidden behind a paternal smile, instructed Ignis to arrange for an apartment for Noctis.

Ignis didn’t know if Noctis would really be comfortable alone here, but he had his directions. He had to let Noctis at least test out what it was like to have his own space.

So, Ignis had supervised as Gladio took a day away from training with the Crownsguard to help Noctis move his clothes and selected personal effects from the Citadel to the high-rise penthouse. Ignis supervised the furniture delivery and helped arrange the apartment’s kitchen and living room to be comfortable and efficient (which involved multiple rounds of “another six inches to the right, Gladio… now four to the left....” before Ignis was satisfied). Prompto showed up with Noctis after school, and helped Noctis unpack his video games and books and loaded up the shelves, and Ignis and Gladio helped them hang posters and some framed photo prints. Prompto brought over his camera and, between taking snaps of all of them, printed more, and helped Noctis put them up all over his door and refrigerator. Ignis made pasta for all of them, and Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio took a quick break to christen the new Gamestation 5 and spare controllers Cor Leonis had sent as a housewarming present. However, after a full day of moving, Ignis knew it was time to wind down for the evening, and told them:

“Noctis, go make your bed. Gladio, Prompto, you may help him or me.” He held up the scrub brush and the pot, caked with melted cheese. 

Noctis got up, groaning, and Prompto and Gladio each got up to follow, grumbling about how they were tired and sore, the couch looks perfectly fine, how Noctis could sleep on the mattress for a night, but Ignis tutted them until all three of them vanished into the bedroom. He continued to scrub the pot until he was satisfied, and listened occasionally to hear if the others were getting Noctis’ bed sorted. He heard them moving around as they got the emptied boxes out of the way, then rumbling and rustling as he dug the fresh sheets out of the drawers. However, when he put the pot in the drying rack, he realized he didn’t hear anything. 

He skulked into the bedroom to ensure Noctis was living up to his promise - after all, this was his responsibility - and stopped short when he saw what was happening in Noctis’ bedroom. 

The bed was made, fitted sheet, pillow cases, flat sheet, and a crooked blanket, but it was also already occupied. Noctis was soundly asleep, sprawled out on the bed, resting his head on a lopsided pillow. Prompto was curled against him, his head on his chest and his knee over Noctis’ leg, one arm flung haphazardly over Noctis' waist and hand on Gladio's thigh. Gladio had stretched out alongside Noctis, arms folded under where his head was planted on the pillow, knees splayed outward, and Noctis seemed to have arched towards his warmth instinctively. Ignis hadn’t realized just how exhausting the move had been until now, he could only imagine the three of them getting most of the way through making the bed before realizing just how comfortable it was before giving it a test, and then drifting away, dragged into sleep by the weight of the day.

They all looked so relaxed. Ignis had never seen Prompto’s wide smile go slack, never so genuine instead of yanked into place by his nerves, and Gladio, ever the vigilant Shield, so rarely let down his guard. Noctis, too, often slept fitfully, had since he was very small, but now, here, he was at rest without so much as a twitch of his eyebrows. Ignis watched the three of them at rest, heart panging, and wondered if Noctis would ever find such peace at home in the Citadel.

He wouldn't be alone here, certainly, and that at least put Ignis' worries at bay.

The future remained to be seen, but the present was sweet. Ignis turned the light low and pulled his apron off, then sat on the side of the bed near Gladio, reverently watching the three of them at rest side by side by side, before stretching himself out alongside Gladio. 

He was rather tired, himself, and the warmth of his friends, in this place that was theirs now, was too inviting.

(In the end, they all slept the whole night piled into one King-sized bed in their day clothes, and when they woke, smiling at each other with mixed embarrassment and surprised enjoyment, Noctis declared the apartment “home sweet home.”)


	2. "You Look Pale"/Sleepy Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis finds Prompto looking pale in the middle of the night, and reaches out to comfort him.

**2: "You Look Pale"/Sleepy Cuddles**

Ignis had never been a heavy sleeper. He subconsciously anticipated his alarm, and ever since they'd been stranded outside of the Crown City after the fall of Insomnia, he'd found himself waking at every stray noise. As such, he woke when the edge of his bed sank, and winked an eye open to see Prompto's profile against the streetlight filtering through the Leville's curtains. Prompto was sitting up in the bed beside him. He was gripping the edge of the bed, eyes wide. Ignis could see the portents of a panic attack a mile away, as sure as a storm cloud promised thunder. 

"You look so pale," Ignis said without thinking, then reached out to put his hand over Prompto's. Prompto startled, eyes going wide, but Ignis squeezed his hand reassuringly and smiled. "You'll make the moon jealous. Is something on your mind?"

Prompto gave a nervous, tight laugh in response, then twitched, chin jerking just over his shoulder to check and ensure that Noctis and Gladio were asleep in the other bed. "I'm…" Noctis yawned across the room, and Prompto winced. "I'm fine. Really."

"Come now." Ignis dragged himself out from the coverlet and sat up slowly, bones weary from the day but heart never too heavy to uplift his comrades. "I doubt you'll rest easy until it's off your chest, and we do need our rest."

Prompto's breath hissed out a withheld sigh, as Ignis took his hand again. "I… it's stupid."

"Whatever it may be, if it weighs on your mind, it is worthy of being out in the open." Ignis sidled closer, squeezing Prompto's fingers. "Just tell me."

Prompto was quiet, then put his head on Ignis' shoulder. “I was just thinking… we’re probably never going home again, are we?” Ignis pressed his eyes shut for a moment, as Prompto babbled under his breath, “Sorry, just, like, even if we do stop the Empire, Insomnia’s a wreck, everything’s destroyed, everything is gone, my p-parents - your uncle, Noct and Gladio’s dads, everyone - we can’t get them back, and we'll never be able to rebuild it the way it was." His back hunched, eyes going wide. "It all just feels so huge, and the longer we’re out here, the more it feels like we’re just going to be stuck living like this forever, and we’ll never get to actually go _home_ again-”

“Shhhh.” Ignis grasped his hand tight, hushing him. He turned Prompto against his chest. “Home may seem distant, and it’s true that it may be some time before we can truly return to the Crown City, and even then, it will be a different Crown City. However, trust in this.” He ran his fingers through Prompto’s hair a few times, and Prompto, skin still clammy, put his face on Ignis’ bare shoulder. “We will, one way or another, make it home. We will reclaim the Crown City, we will rebuild it and make it better, and it will be our home. Until then, we have each other.” He put his forehead against the top of Prompto’s head. “This space, where we’re all together, is home.”

“Y-you’re right,” Prompto rasped, and finally minutely relaxed. “I’ve still got you guys.”

“Precisely.” Ignis nuzzled his head. “Come, let’s get comfortable. We both need some rest.” 

Ignis coaxed Prompto to lay beside him, weariness already dragging him back down. The same tiredness seemed to tug on Prompto, too, as his eyelids were already drooping when Ignis maneuvered his head onto the pillow. Ignis held him tight, knowing that he slept better with someone close to him, and that Prompto needed to know he wasn’t alone right now. Their legs tangled between the sheets, Prompto curled up against Ignis, his breathing evening out. Their morning alarm was only a few hours away, Ignis knew, and with the storm of Prompto’s fears passing (at least for now), he needed to take advantage of every minute he had to rest. 

Still, Prompto’s warmth was a reassurance, and as the two of them drifted towards sleep, Ignis was reassured that he was as safe as could be, and they would bear the journey for however long it lasts.


	3. Promises/Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long, long time ago, Ignis made Noctis a promise...

**3: Promises/Childhood**

“You promised!” Noctis cried out as he chased Ignis to the nursery door. Ignis winced, but turned back from where his uncle was waiting. 

“I’m very sorry,” he said softly, even as Uncle set his hands on his hips. “But I stayed for as long as I could-”

“I was good!” Noctis stomped his tiny feet and balled his fists. “I didn’t cry at the doctor! I ate my carrots! You said we’d play all day if I was good!”

“It’s been a long time,” Ignis tried to soothe. He’d only come to Insomnia to stay with Noctis a few months ago, but this sort of behavior was already becoming a bad habit. “We played for hours-”

Noctis threw his head back, tears streaming down reddened cheeks. “Please don’t go!” He stomped his feet again, looking so small in the royal nursery. Ignis’ heart panged, his tummy aching. He had so many toys and games, and yet Noctis would be all alone with it. Ignis remembered the long hours he’d spent alone with his own toys. He’d never had a playmate his age until he’d come to Insomnia. Noctis didn’t have anyone else his own age either.

Ignis loved spending time with him, mostly. Noctis was younger than Ignis - Ignis (already too wise for his years) thought of him as a little kid, so he could be pesky and needy, but he was so earnest, and he clearly just wanted to love and be loved. Ignis loved spending time with him, because he was always was so happy to see Ignis, so energetic, and his smile was so sweet. 

That smile was nowhere in sight, as Noctis teetered on the edge of a full tantrum.

“I’m very sorry, Prince Noctis,” Uncle repeated from behind Ignis. “However, Ignis’ tutor is waiting for him. Your nurse is here, too-”

“No,” Noctis sobbed, “don’t want her, don’t want her! I want Iggy! Iggy, please!”

“Highness,” Noctis’ nurse said, her cultured voice harsh and stiff in contrast to Noctis’ soft toys and the pastel walls, “this behavior is unbecoming. You said you were a good boy, didn’t you?”

At that, Noctis sealed his mouth shut and held his breath. Ignis could see his lips turning faintly blue, as he tried to force himself to stave back tears. To be the Prince everyone expected him to be.

_Good Princes_ , Ignis recalled telling him just yesterday, _eat all their vegetables, and they certainly don’t squirm when they get their shots. If you promise to be a good Prince, we can play all day tomorrow._

He'd tried so hard. When Noctis' nurse took him for his inoculations, he suppressed his shivers when he got the needle. He forced down his carrot sticks, miserable the entire time but doing his best. He was doing what he was told, trying to be the good Prince he was expected to be, and Ignis couldn't even give the reward he'd promised.

Noctis was still very little. How could he be expected to be anything other than little? How could Ignis ask him to keep that promise? Ignis still had trouble keeping his own promises, and yet he already knew how important it was to hold true to his word.

How else could he be a good right hand to a good Prince?

Ignis turned back from his uncle and took both of Noctis’ hands. “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” he told him, “but I promise, I’ll come back tomorrow, and we’ll play for as long as we can. And I’ll be here the next day, and the next, and the day after that, until forever. Even if I have to go away, or if you have to go away, I’ll always come back for you. Promise.” He dried Noctis’ cheeks on his sleeve. “I’ll ask Uncle if I can come back later. And if I can’t, I will be here tomorrow. Will you be alright if I have to go for now?”

Noctis, cheeks still swollen and red, managed a tiny nod, and Noctis’ nurse swooped in to scoop him up.

“You have your lessons too, Highness,” she told him in a much gentler voice, and carried him away, and Ignis trudged back to take his Uncle’s hand again. Uncle led Ignis out into the hall and towards his office, his grip gentle, his expression mild.

“Ignis,” he said softly, gently, and with only a note of reproach, “you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Ignis shrugged a little and kept his gaze low. “I’m going to keep it.”

Noctis already was a good Prince. As good as any four-year-old could be. He couldn’t ask more of him, and it had been unfair to ask so much of him. He’d kept his promise, and now Ignis would keep his, for as long as he possibly could. 


	4. Comfort after a Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of vulnerability after a nightmare for Gladio and Noctis.

**4: Comfort After a Nightmare**

Noctis shouted, and Gladio damn near jumped through the roof.

Sleep had been slow in coming for most of the party, and he’d barely been able to convince Iris to shut her eyes. He’d finally gotten her to settle down, with Talcott, still red-faced from crying, tucked against her. Jared’s murder had shaken them both so badly, he couldn’t blame them, and nor could he blame any of the others for their restlessness before they'd each retreated to their beds after sitting in uncomfortable silence. After all, that same restlessness was what had him sitting in the common area of their suite, reading the same three paragraphs of his novel over and over instead of sleeping.

Now, Noctis was awake and screaming. Gladio was on high alert, spine rigid in an instant, book forgotten and toppled from his thigh to the floor, and he rushed from the sofa to Noctis’ door and in. 

“Noct! What’s-” He stopped a gesture short of drawing his sword, when he saw Noctis in the dark room, the room night-blue except for a shaft of bright moonlight cast across the floor. Noctis was sitting upright in the bed, halfway curled in, hand clutching his chest, a cold sweat on his forehead. He was panting, every breath dragged in over sand and shattered glass. He quickly swiped his palm over his forehead and turned away. 

“Did you need something?” 

Gladio frowned, and shut the door behind him. “I heard you scream. You okay?” 

“Yeah.” Gladio didn’t miss the way Noctis flinched when he bowed his head. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

Gladio studied Noctis’ closed body language, the way his shoulders slumped around his chest like he was curling in around his heart, and trudged closer. “Nightmare?”

Noctis sealed his mouth shut for a moment, then muttered, “Yeah.” He threw himself flat on the bed and stared pointedly at the ceiling. “It’s fine. It was just a dream.”

“Dreams can suck.” Gladio sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s just everything rattling around in your head, that you’ve been holding back, coming back to haunt you when you can’t control it anymore. And let’s face it, we’ve had a lot of things suck lately.”

Noctis cringed, eyes slowly squeezing shut again, and he sighed. “Yeah? But it’s my duty to deal with it, isn’t it?”

“Hey, I only ever said I expect you to deal with it. I never said it wouldn’t suck. Because sometimes, it does.” He turned, thinking again of Jared, of Iris and Talcott crying, of how he wasn’t here to do anything about it when it had mattered. “It really does.”

“Yeah.” Noctis opened his eyes, and stared up through the ceiling. “Do you… do you blame me?”

“For what?” Gladio almost didn’t want to ask.

Noctis shrugged, hesitating for a long moment. “Everything.” It was exactly the answer Gladio expected.

Gladio turned and put his hand on Noctis’ head. “Hey. Look at me.” Noctis’ gaze rolled over to meet his. “You didn’t ask the Niffs to start this war. You didn’t tell ‘em to attack our home. You didn’t make ‘em come after us. They did that, and everyone who’s here with you wants to be. We support you, Noct.” He paused, and said it even more firmly: “I’m proud of you. You’re doing everything you can. I’ve only had to push you a little.” He smiled wryly, and Noctis managed a weak grin in return.

“Even a little push is a lot coming from you.” Noctis lightly pushed at Gladio’s big arm, and sat up. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Gladio put his arm around his shoulder. “You wanna talk about that nightmare? Let me tell you how ridiculous it was.”

Noctis snorted. “It’s dumb. I just… I dreamed I was turning into a monster. And…” He hung his head, chin to his chest. “And I hurt  _ everyone _ .”

“Everyone,” Gladio repeated, frowning for a moment. Then, he pushed on Noctis’ forearm. “You can hardly hurt a cockroach on a good day.”

“Ass.” Noctis snorted and shoved Gladio’s shoulder. “I can hurt a lot of people. I just don't want to.”

“Exactly." Gladio shook him around. "You’ve only ever hurt things that have wanted to hurt you. You’re not a monster, Noct. You’re just a man, doing his best for the people depending on him. I know what it’s like when your best just isn’t enough.”

_ A weak Shield protects naught _ , after all. Gladio suppressed an angry shiver at the memory of Ravus’ taunt. Noctis leaned a little closer into Gladio’s chest.

“It’s all any of us can do,” he mumbled, and Gladio didn’t know what to tell him. “We’re gonna be alright.”

“Yeah.” Gladio patted Noctis’ back and stood. “You think you can go back to sleep?”

“I gotta.” Noctis rubbed at the circles under his eyes. “But… can you stay a few more minutes?” He bit his lip the moment the words were out, and Gladio’s chest ached.

“Yeah. Yeah, gimme just a second.”

Gladio retrieved his book from where it had fallen, and returned to Noctis’ bedroom. Noctis was already stretched out again, sinking into the mattress, eyes slipping shut, and he didn’t stir when Gladio sat on the edge of the bed with his back to the window so the moonlight could light his page. He didn’t know how much he’d actually be able to read, not when he kept looking back at Noctis.

They’d all lived a nightmare, and still did every day, just one that stretched, lingered, and worsened. Gladio didn’t know when or how he would find his own peace, but for all the burdens laid on Noctis’ shoulders, the fact that he carried responsibility for all of it and clearly let that pressure weigh him down, he wanted Noctis to have something to depend on.


	5. Hair Washing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rough tumble, Gladio needs some help to detangle.

**5: Hair Washing**

The mud and blood were basically ground into his skin now, part of his tattoo, embedded in his clothes. Gladio didn’t want to budge from the doorway of the motel room and risk getting it everywhere. The elixir Ignis and Noct were driving to the nearest proper store to purchase would be expensive enough. They didn’t need the cleaning fees. 

He had his trampled arm cradled in a sling they kept in the first aid kit, and tried to stand as still as he could. He controlled his breathing, meditating to keep his mind off of the pain that the aspirin he’d taken had only barely dulled. Prompto was flitting around the room, rustling through something or other, but Gladio was too focused on a single lump in the wall to care about whatever he was up to. He focused instead on the steady in and out of his breath, and the fact that the pain was a sign of victory.

He hurt, so he’d lived. Noctis hadn’t gotten his head stomped by a Dualhorn, so he’d done what he was supposed to do. It was just a trick of fate that he’d thrown his shield up at a slightly off angle and gotten trampled instead.

Ignis had managed a rudimentary splint and wrapped it to hold the arm in place until they could heal it properly, but until he and Noct got back, he was just going to have to enjoy his trophy: The filth on him, and the persistent _ache._

“Hey, Gladio?” Prompto’s hail shook Gladio from his reverie, and he winced as he focused on Prompto. Prompto’s brow was knit up, but he was smiling. “Hey, big guy, I thought I was the one who spaced out.”

“Wasn’t spacing out,” Gladio ground out. “I can’t help much right now, so whatever it is, you’re on your own.” He indicated his arm with a jerk of his chin. Prompto shook his head.

“Nah, I got everything covered! I put the beds together, I got all our bags where we like ‘em, I even put on a pot of coffee for when Iggy gets back. You know, whenever that is.” He gestured to the room, and Gladio blinked past the haze of pain to see that Prompto had indeed resettled everything to be just the way they all liked it. Good kid. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to come, like, sit down or something?”

“And get grime on the chair? Iggy’d chew my head off.” Gladio scoffed. “I need a shower first, but I can’t shower myself with my arm like this.” He motioned to the makeshift brace with his uninjured hand, and Prompto screwed his face up in thought.

“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.” Then, he snapped his fingers. “Bingo! I’ll help wash you off!”

Gladio raised an eyebrow, but Prompto scuttled into the bathroom without another word. A moment later, he returned and took Gladio by his good hand. “Come here, they’re gonna be a while, I don’t want you to have to just stand there looking grouchy for however long Iggy and Noct take getting you the elixir.”

“Prompto-”

“I’ll help, okay?” Prompto smiled reassuringly, and his grip loosened just a little, a reassuring squeeze rather than a demanding drag, and Gladio let himself be led.

Prompto had found a stepstool, like the kind a small child might use to stand at the sink to brush their teeth, and set it in the shower. Prompto reached for the sling, then stopped midway through the motion. “I’m gonna take your sling off. Hold your arm steady, okay?” Gladio winced, but held still, as Prompto unhooked the sling and removed it from around his neck. He took a plastic convenience store bag from his toiletries, emptied its contents onto the bathroom counter, and covered his arm with the bag. Then, he very carefully worked Gladio’s shirt off around the wrapped arm and the bag. Gladio pulled his pants and boxers off - he was so used to being naked around the others that he rarely even hesitated anymore, and Prompto had stopped jumping every time he saw him in the nude. Instead, Prompto put Gladio’s filthy clothes aside and made a nudging motion with his hand. “Go on and sit on the stool, and keep your arm steady on your lap, okay?”

Gladio shrugged, but seated himself on the stepstool. He was too low to the ground, knees splayed awkwardly beside his hips. Not like he could complain. Prompto turned the bathroom tap on and filled a large mug with warm water, then soaked a washcloth and poured on some soap. Prompto poured the water onto his good arm, then scrubbed it all over until the mud and blood were rinsed away. Prompto hummed to himself as he worked, off-key and cheerful, as he washed Gladio off section by section. Gladio held still, balancing his arm on his lap until Prompto lifted it off of his thighs so Prompto could give him a quick scrub down, then moved right along to his feet.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” he remarked, hiding his approval under a little grumble. Prompto shrugged.

“I tripped pretty good once, back when I first started running. Busted my arm pretty good back then, and I didn’t have a Noct or an Iggy to give me an elixir.” He smiled wryly, then poured warm water over Gladio’s legs. “I was lucky my mom came home for a week vacation around then, I hadn’t been able to shower properly, but she helped me out." He paused poignantly. "I still remember that.”

“Huh,” Gladio rumbled, as Prompto poured water over Gladio’s feet that ran clean. 

“Okay!” He looked satisfied, then grabbed the bottle of shampoo. “Let’s get hairy!” 

Prompto poured a few cups of water over Gladio’s hair. The warmth washed down through his locks, rivulets running down his face and chest, but Prompto gently swiped the flow back with his hand to keep too much from getting in his eyes. Gladio shut his eyes as Prompto detangled his wet hair with his fingers, carding them through the strands and gently tugging and combing through. He poured a little more water on for good measure, then poured a generous dollop of shampoo into his palm, rubbed it between his hands, and began to lather his hair up from the bottom. He scrubbed up the length of Gladio’s hair, to the roots, then massaged his scalp. Prompto's fingertips were narrow, his grip strong, and he seemed to know just where to rub out all the tension points on Gladio's head. Maybe it was just because he'd been scowling so long his whole head was tense. 

Gladio's face relaxed as Prompto began to lather the shampoo through the rest of his hair, scrubbing every strand in bunches, then combing it all out again. Prompto touched Gladio's chin and murmured, "Tip your head back," then poured on more water to rinse the foam out and smoothed his hair down. Then, he poured on the conditioner and worked it in, root to tip. Gladio lost a minute or two as Prompto wove his fingers through again and again to work the conditioner in, only to find himself disappointed when Prompto stopped. 

"I'm gonna grab you some clean clothes and a comb." Gladio frowned.

"Comb?"

"You're right handed, right?" Prompto grinned and ran his fingers through Gladio's hair again. "Someone's gotta comb that mane out, or it's gonna end up one big tangle."

Gladio waited with bated breath, anticipating whatever Prompto was going to do with the comb when he got it. Sure enough, Prompto returned with a fresh set of boxer shorts from his duffel and his comb, and he positioned himself behind Gladio again. Prompto toweled his hair off, then laid the towel around his shoulders. Gladio waited, shutting his eyes, as Prompto hummed a random, soft little tune and first tugged out a few tangles with his fingers, then slowly ran the comb through a few times, from the root all the way out to the tip. His strokes were measured and careful, and Prompto kept a steady tempo that lulled Gladio. The consistency of it, the gentle touches, the strokes down his scalp and the way the teeth dragged in neat lines down through his hair, it washed out the tension that remained.

Prompto finished with his hair, leaving it silk-smooth and draped like satin over his shoulders. Then, he offered Gladio a fresh towel and his boxers. “Need some help with these?”

“I’m good.” Gladio was able to pat himself down with his left hand, then stepped into his boxer shorts and tugged them up. Prompto waited just outside of the shower stall, rocking on his heels. Gladio finished patting himself down, and put his arm back into the sling. Prompto patted him on the back as he came out.

“Go on and rest. I’m sure the others’ll be back soon.” He grinned, the kind of winning smile that just made the warmth in Gladio’s heart build like a campfire. 

He fluffed Prompto’s hair with his good hand, then mussed it. “I promise, I’ll get you back, alright? Next time you need an extra hand, I got you.”

Prompto beamed as Gladio made a mess of his hair, then combed it back out with his fingers. “My pleasure.”

“Nah.” Gladio shook his hair out, feeling miles better. The pain was still there, but Prompto’s care had been a distracting balm, and Gladio was so grateful he could wash away some of the day’s strain. Now that he was clean, he felt much more himself again. “Pleasure was all mine.” 


	6. Forehead Kisses/"It'll Be Okay"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis, Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio play a dangerous game in the streets of Lestallum...

**6: Forehead Kisses/ “It’ll be okay”**

It was a game. It was Noctis’ favorite game. 

“Tag, you’re it!” Noctis was tugged around by his arm all at once, and Prompto planted a big, wet smooch right in the middle of his forehead. Noctis laughed as Prompto darted out into the street, heading towards the Lestallum marketplace at a job. “Can’t catch me, no tag-backs!”

“That’s not in the rules!” Noctis started to jog after him, but Prompto yelled eagerly, laughing, as he ran off and vanished into the bright light, sunlight into the sun. Noctis lost him into the crowd and the bright light, and Noctis gave up the chase after just a few steps.

Fine, fine, Noctis was fine with this. He had two other potential targets if there was a “no tag-backs” in place. 

Noctis kept a light jog through Lestallum, trying not to look like a man on a mission as he hunted the crowd. Around all the people wandering past, however, Noctis was dead-set on finding just two.

Ignis was purchasing vegetables at the market, and Noctis would do anything to distract him from that. He wove through the crowd, sidestepping and trying not to make direct eye contact with him as Ignis selectively turned over tomatoes and cucumbers. Only the best for the Prince, so he might say, as if Noct planned on eating them. Noctis slipped through, sidling around and closer, until he finally reached the stand and - 

Ignis was gone.

“Looking for the tall fella with the city slicker hair, right?” The vendor chuckled, and Noctis turned to him, frowning. “He said if a younger man with messy black hair and skulls on his shirt comes by, to tell you he saw you coming and ‘Olly olly oxen free.’” He chuckled warmly. “You kids playing tag in the city?”

“Something like that.” Noctis scowled. Ignis had made him and was on the run. There was no way Noctis was going to catch him without the element of surprise.

Instead, he had to move on to his next target, Gladio. Gladio was never an easy mark, but last time Gladio had seen them, Prompto was still ‘it.’ He might still be able to get one over on Gladio if he wasn’t on his guard.

Noctis wandered into a less crowded part of the city, out towards the overlook. Sure enough, on a bench by the Cup Noodle truck, facing the outlook over Taelpar Crag and the Disc, Gladio was sitting with his feet up on a planter and a book open in one hand. Prime target. Noctis looked left and right across the street, then took out a dagger and warped to a palm tree above the bench. Gladio, engrossed, flipped a page. Noctis shimmied down the tree, pressing his feet to the ground to keep from making a sound, then tiptoed towards Gladio and-

Was promptly seized around the waist and hoisted up on a muscular shoulder.

“Not today, Highness.” Gladio stood easily without dislodging his book, and Noctis barely caught a glimpse of his mischievous grin before Gladio flung him face down against his back. “You’re not gonna make me ‘it’ with Iris around.”

“Come on, Gladio, you’re the only one who can catch Iggy and Prompto said no tag-backs!” Noctis moaned and slapped ineffectually at Gladio’s thighs. “Next time we’re gonna see Iris, if you’re ‘it,’ I’ll take it off your hands, no complaints!”

“Not happening today.” Gladio walked Noctis across the street, planted him in front of the skewer stand, and kissed the top of his head. “We don’t play tag-backs, either. Go get ‘im.”

Noctis groaned, but decided he had to play his ultimate trump card. 

Noctis went to sulk in the Leville’s lobby, knees pulled in and face in his hands. After only a little while, Prompto showed up, and Noctis heard him laughing at first, then heard his footsteps approaching. 

“Hey, Noct? Are you really that upset? It’s just a game, you know.” Prompto squeezed Noctis’ shoulders. “You couldn’t get Iggy or Gladio?”

“They wouldn’t let me,” he mumbled. “They’re too good. It’s like they don’t want me to kiss them.”

“Aw, Noct. It’s the game, you know they’d let you smooch ‘em all day if we weren’t playing the game.” Prompto fluffed his hair. “You’ll get ‘em later, and after we call truce for the day, it’s free reign. It’ll be okay.” He kissed Noctis’ fingers. Noctis dared look up at Prompto from between his fingers, then lunged in and planted a kiss right between his eyes.

“No tag-backs, my ass. Royal decree.” He stood up as Prompto stepped back, sputtering, and strode towards the door. “You’re ‘it.’”

“No fair! Noct!” Prompto gave chase, trying to get around him to plant a kiss on his head, but Noctis laughed and strolled on, easily dodging his advances.

It was just a game, and really, all of them were winners. That’s why it was Noctis’ favorite.


	7. Mending Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets hurt, Ignis helps put him back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood and injury in this chapter.

**7: Mending Wounds**

Ignis came into Noctis’ apartment to be greeted by the faint scent of chopped onion. He took only a momentary look around the room and his heart dropped. Noctis flat on the sofa with an ice pack on his forehead and Prompto sitting at the kitchen table with a wad of gauze wrapped around his hand. Ignis dropped his suitcase, threw his jacket onto the coathook, and hurried over to Prompto first.

“What happened?”

Prompto bit his lip, but Noctis spoke up, wobbly and unsteady: “Prompto was saying how it sucked that you did so much for us, so he was going to make dinner. He brought stuff.” Noctis lifted a hand and pointed over the edge of the sofa towards the counter, and Ignis glanced over to see a cutting board haphazardly covered with sliced onions and garlic, and an abandoned mandolin slicer in the sink. “He said he had a recipe for tomato sauce and pasta that you’d approve of, and made me help. I got a headache from the onion smell.” He gestured again. “And Prompto…”

Ignis looked at Prompto, brow furrowed, and Prompto finally squeaked out, “My hand slipped on the slicer. I got my thumb pretty good.” 

Ignis held his breath for a moment, then tugged gently on the gauze Prompto had used to wrap his thumb. “Let me see it.”

“It’s okay, it’s not nearly as bad as it looks.” Prompto shyly unwound some of the gauze, and let Ignis catch a glimpse of the blood seeping through. 

“Let’s see all of it.” Ignis took hold of the wrap and undid it, revealing a slice across the tip of Prompto’s thumb. He partially rewrapped it, then motioned for Prompto to stand. “Come with me, come along.” 

Ignis could hardly be upset at Prompto; it was a kind gesture, after all. He couldn’t be upset at Prompto for trying to do his job and making such a mistake. It was bold, but foolish, and those happened to be two of the things Ignis rather liked about Prompto.

Prompto stumbled along a step behind Ignis as he led him to the bathroom and got the first aid kid. He unwrapped Prompto’s thumb again, this time over the sink, and cleaned the wound out. It was a clean slice, and not so large that it needed stitches. Instead, Ignis got an alcohol swab and prepared a bandage. He dabbed the wound with the alcohol, and Prompto yelped.

“Motherf- ah- owwww,” He turned his swear into a whine, and Ignis fixed him with an amused but reproachful look.

“Good correction. Wouldn’t want to have to reinstate the swear jar, would we?” He discarded the alcohol swab as Prompto shook his head left and right as hard as he could, hair swishing around. “As for the injury, please understand: I appreciate the gesture, but you must be careful,” Ignis told him, with the gentle but firm tones a parent would use on a child. Prompto, clearly chided, bit his lip.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“No harm done.” Ignis finished wrapping Prompto’s thumb, then gave him a more friendly smile. “I can show you how to more safely use the mandolin, if you’d like. Did you use the handguard?” 

Prompto nodded. “It slipped.” 

“Ah. Perhaps, if you wish to be my sous chef, we’ll get you a Kevlar glove.” Ignis patted his hand. “Something cutproof.”

“Yeah.” Prompto put on a wobbly smile. “I did my best, but I’ve kinda had to teach myself.”

“I’d be happy to coach you in the future.” He packed the first aid kit away. “For the time being, how about we try to get that sauce on together? If Noctis is still napping off his headache, we can get some extra veg in the sauce.”

Prompto’s smile spread a little broader, his expression braver, and Ignis capped it off with a bold reassurance. He took Prompto’s cut hand and pulled his thumb to his mouth for a kiss.

“All better,” he said without thinking. Prompto laughed and nudged Ignis in the ribs.

“I’m sure it will be, thanks to you. Come on, let’s vitaminize that dinner!” He bounded out, his usual spring back in his step, and Ignis smiled and followed him back to the kitchen.

* * *

Noctis staggered to the ground, then collapsed, flat on his back, exhausted from stasis, and let out a groan like a creaking car door. Gladio took a knee beside his sword where it was planted into the last dissolving Mindflayer, panting. Ignis, eyes dry from weariness, blinked a few times as he dismissed his daggers.

They hadn’t been prepared for two Red Giants, three Arachnes, and four Mindflayers to appear on the road, but they had performed as valiantly as could be expected. Ignis did his best to keep an eye on all of the others, but now that the air was clear, he could fully assess the situation.

“How are we all faring?” He asked, a rattle in his throat. Gladio raised a quaking thumbs-up.

“Getting by.”

“Fair,” Noct mumbled without moving from the forest floor. “Just. Drag me to camp.”

“Fair enough.” Ignis swept his gaze around the upturned earth and scraped tree trunks, and frowned when he saw Prompto propped up against a tree, legs splayed out, and a hand over his arm. “Prompto?”

“I…” Ignis realized Prompto was pressing the bandanna he usually had tied around his forearm was displaced, and under his hand. Ignis could see discoloration on his skin in the moonlight, and burst into motion. He first checked for a potion in the inventory - alas, none. The fight had been arduous and they were overdue restocking, and now Prompto would pay the price. 

“Stay calm,” he said firmly, as Prompto, wincing and flinching, twitched away from Ignis’ extended hand. Ignis instead took the hand laid on his thigh, and leaned forward to look him in the eyes. “Stay with me. I’m here. I’ll take care of it. Let’s see it.” 

Prompto, gaze unfocused, turned his head towards Ignis. He seemed to focus for a moment, then gave a jerky nod and moved his hand away. Blood poured out of a deep gash on his arm. Ignis pushed the bandanna back against it, and spoke aloud: “Gladio, Noctis, one of you needs to come give me a light.”

Gladio staggered over, and with his light, Ignis could see a puddle of blood the breadth of a splayed hand forming under Prompto’s fingers. Gladio’s light shook for a second, before he knelt in close. 

“Out of curatives?” He kept his voice remarkably steady, considering the amount of blood Ignis could now see.

“Yes. We’ll need to mend it, or at least temporarily close the wound, until we can acquire more.” Ignis put his hand over Prompto’s bloodied one. “I’m very sorry. This will require stitches.”

“It’s fine,” he rasped back in a hurry, “it’s fine, just - I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t,” Ignis promised in a whisper. “It’s going to hurt but you can handle it.”

“Prompto?” Noctis called all of a sudden, and Gladio strangled a noise.

“He’s over here,” Gladio answered as Ignis summoned the first aid kit. “You stay over there.”

“Shit,” Noctis groaned. “Like I have a choice.”

Gladio got on his knees to put the light clipped on his jacket closer to the injury, and Ignis took out a needle from the kit, sterilized it by holding it over a lit match, then threaded it with thread from a sanitary bag. He spoke in the practiced gentle, but firm tones he used when he needed to command Noctis without fail, covering his own anxiety with false confidence. “Prompto, take Gladio’s hand for me.”

Prompto bit his lip, but weakly moved his hand over to where Gladio could easily reach and hold it. Ignis hesitated, then, with a touch to the crescent of Prompto’s thumb and forefinger, moved the bandanna away from the wound again. It was a relatively clean slice, but deep, dangerously deep. He grabbed an alcohol swab from the kit and cleaned the blood away from the edges. “How did this happen?”

Prompto inhaled and exhaled a few times as Ignis lined up the needle. “Imp. Scythe.” He hissed as Ignis cleaned away a fresh burst of blood, then pushed the needle in. Prompto yelped, but Gladio squeezed his hand and hushed him.

“Little bastard snuck up on ya, huh?”

“Caught me on the side where I hadn’t fired a Starshell ten seconds before,” Prompto replied, tense and nervous as Ignis hurriedly whipstitched the wound shut in tight, neat stitches. “Just, out of nowhere. I turned right the hell around and fired six shots into him - ow, f-” He bit his lip _hard,_ and Ignis, without ceasing stitching, clicked his tongue.

“It’s alright, there are no swear jars when you’ve nearly lost an arm.” He put on a facsimile of a smile, which Prompto weakly returned for a moment, before biting down on his lower lip again. Gladio rubbed his fingers between Prompto’s knuckles.

“Gonna be okay, man,” he told him. Prompto keened through his sealed mouth, as Ignis hurried to the other side of the wound. 

Noctis was shouting for attention from where he laid: “Hey, how is he?! What happened? What can I do to help?!”

“Stay there for now,” Gladio replied. “It’s just a cut, we’ve got him.” 

“Flesh wound,” Prompto joked back, but in his fear, he could barely raise his voice to be heard.

“Now, now, let’s just tell him the truth later rather than lying to him now; he’ll skin you when he finds out you were less than honest,” Ignis teased, and Prompto choked weakly, half-laughing at the attempted pun, but nodded. Ignis returned to focusing intently on the stitches. The wound was longer than it had first appeared, and Ignis found himself sick at heart that Prompto had thought to handle this on his own. Bold, but foolish, as ever. “We’ll have to ensure your blind side is better protected,” Ignis remarked, trying to sound dry and detached but certain he only sounded worried. “Full body armor to the wrist.” Prompto choked out a weak laugh.

“I’ll just have to be more careful.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed. “But one of us should’a had your back.”

“What’s done is done,” Ignis said, and pulled the last stitch tight. “And we’re done here.” He summoned a bottle of water from the Armiger and took two aspirin out of the bottle in the first aid kit. “Take these, and drink the entire bottle. You appear to have lost some blood, and you’re going to need to hydrate.”

“We’ll give you something to eat in the car, if you’re not too nauseous,” Gladio added. “That’s what happened when I used to give blood. Bottle of water, bag of cookies, and you just donated a pint to the cause. Let's get you some fluid and vitamins.” 

Prompto crackled out a wheezy laugh, and finally dropped the hand that had been holding his bloodied bandanna to the ground. “Sure, let’s call it a donation.” He wiped his hand on his pants and took the aspirin from Ignis, then took a gulp of water and took them in a single swallow. “Hey, so, I’m not feeling great.” Ignis covered his mouth to hide his surprised smile at Prompto's pretended bravado. "Can I get a hand to the car?”

Ignis packed the kit and took a knee at Prompto’s side, and Prompto slung his good arm around his shoulder. Ignis levered the both of them to a stand, and Gladio finally released Prompto’s hand to turn to Noctis, who had been shouting on and off to try to talk to Prompto or Ignis. Gladio scooped Noctis up over his shoulder, as Prompto lumbered heavily at Ignis’ side.

“Thanks, Iggy,” he said softly. 

“My pleasure.” Ignis opened the passenger door as they reached the car, and sat Prompto down. “Rest a bit, alright? We’ll get you a potion and some vitamins to restore you as soon as we can.” Prompto hummed, closing his eyes for a moment, and Ignis fastened his seatbelt for him. Then, on a whim, he kissed the stitches over his arm. “All better.”

“Thanks to you,” Prompto said, a sleepy grin sliding over his mouth, and Ignis circled to the driver’s side to set off towards the morning and some real relief.


	8. Games/ "I Will Protect You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Game night gets a little too real.

The danger was real, as real as could be. They were all familiar with the risks, and the vicious, cutthroat rules. Yet, gathered around the table in the common area of the Leville suite, the game was afoot.

“Draw two,” Ignis said, laying a card down with a faint slap. Prompto winced back into his armchair, then put a Reversal on top. 

“Sorry, Iggy.”

“Never apologize for a fortunate play.” Ignis nonchalantly drew a few cards, then crossed and uncrossed his legs on the edge of his seat and put another card down. “Sevens.”

Noctis swore and tried to cover his hand behind his palm, but Ignis snapped his finger. “Swap, Noctis.” 

Noctis grimaced and turned his hand down and passed it to Ignis, as Gladio snickered. “Iggy never passes the hat without a plan.”

“It’s not about hats, it’s about him taking my hand!” Noctis scoffed and put a card down. “See which one of you assholes still has blue-”

“Blue two.” Gladio put a matching card on top, and Noctis groaned. “What, you asked, and you’re the one who said you were okay with jump-in!”

“Fine, whatever.” Noctis snapped his fingers, as Prompto anxiously looked left and right between Gladio and Ignis on either side of him. The lights were burning low, and the round just seemed to be moving faster and faster. “It’s your turn now, what are you going to do?”

“Wild card.” Gladio put one down. “Greens or sixes.”

“Green six,” Prompto answered with a grin, and Ignis, beside him, smirked.

“Green reversal.” He set a card down. “I know Noctis has something nasty in there.”

“Green two,” Prompto added, worry creeping into his voice as Gladio hunched forward, scowling.

“Yeah, well he better watch it.” Gladio put down a card. “Red two.”

“Reversal,” Noctis muttered, shooting Ignis a look. “Don’t.”

“Playing keep away, are we?” Ignis smirked and fanned out his cards in front of his face. 

“We’re playing Uno,” Gladio retorted, and put another red on top. “And you better not be thinking about getting between me and Uno.” He looked to Prompto, eyes narrowed, and Prompto bit his lip.

“Uh, I only have one red.” He put down a red Draw 4. “Sorry again, Iggy.”

“Never you mind. Reversal.” Ignis put down a reverse card, and Prompto held a keen in his throat.

“Wildcard and draw 2.” He looked to Gladio. “So you have to draw six.”

“Like hell!” Gladio put down another card. “Draw eight, Noct!”

“Not happening.” Noctis slapped down a blue Draw 2. “That’s ten, Ignis.”

“Reverse.” Ignis set it on top, then displayed the last card in his hand. “And Uno.”

“Shit,” Noctis hissed, but put down another draw two. “Fourteen.”

“No way, sixteen, Prompto!” Gladio put down another Draw 2 and shoved the deck towards Prompto.

“Uh.” Prompto put a Reverse on top. “Fourteen, you said?”

“No.” Gladio’s eyes went wide, and Ignis hoisted Prompto up under the arms and put him on the other side of his chair.

“I’ll protect you.”

“Oh,” Noctis said aloud suddenly, and put another Reverse on top. “And that’s Uno for me.”

“LIKE HELL!” Gladio slammed his hands on the table, upending the entire pile. Noctis threw himself back on the sofa, trying hard not to laugh, as Prompto hugged onto Ignis, and Ignis smirked confidently.

“We had less than ten cards left to draw, so Gladio has been decked out by default. I fear the game is ours.”

Gladio moaned and sank back in his seat. Noctis sat forward and patted Gladio on the back of the head.

“Seriously, don’t take your eyes off of Specs.”

“It’s Prompto who’s the sneaky one!” Gladio let out a bitter laugh, then grinned at him. “No hard feelings, right?”

Prompto sidled his way out from behind Ignis, returning a nervous smile. “Right.”

Then, Gladio’s smirk turned predatory. “Who’s up for Jenga?”

A chill ran through the room, but every man squared up, and Noctis summoned the box from the Armiger as Gladio began cleaning up the cards, and Ignis and Prompto traded bold looks and a resolute nod.

The game was, once again, afoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based off of an actual Uno game I played with friends at Katsucon.


	9. Happy/Sad Tears / “Please Don’t Go”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis hates to leave, but he hates even more for Prompto to watch him go.

**9: Happy/Sad Tears / “Please Don’t Go”**

Ignis hated to leave to tears. Prompto always put on a brave face when Ignis had to be away for a week on Citadel business, especially when Gladio and Noctis had to be gone for the same business. Ever since Prompto had moved from his parents’ house to Ignis’ little apartment, so Prompto could have consistent, caring company (or, as Ignis saw it, an escape from lifelong neglect), Ignis had found that Prompto would always tense up and mope quietly for a few days before Ignis left to the Citadel, and the night before, Ignis would hear him faintly sniffling into his pillow. 

Prompto had been left behind far too many times for his own good. It was painful enough the morning of, when Prompto would put on a brave face and a bracing smile, when Ignis could tell there was a lonely child somewhere in there that only wanted to plead, “Please don’t go.”

So, the night before Ignis had to leave for another extended set of meetings, Ignis made certain he packed before Prompto returned from his part time job, and finished all of his work to ensure Prompto wouldn’t see him toiling away and be reminded. He instead sat with Prompto and put on a small marathon of his favorite movies, eating popcorn with him and enjoying his company. He made Prompto’s favorite green curry (so easily forgetting how his mouth burned when Prompto smiled), and when it came time to sleep, Ignis held Prompto and stroked his hair until he relaxed.

In the morning, Ignis woke himself early and prepared breakfast for Prompto, vanilla and walnut scones with marmalade and clotted cream. He hid the extras in a paper bag to share with Noctis and Gladio later, but crept into Prompto’s bedroom and woke him with a kiss to his brow. Prompto blinked his eyes open, bleary blue irises watery, and Ignis smoothed his hair from his brow. 

“Good morning, my darling. Won’t you have breakfast with me before I go?” He offered the plate, and Prompto smiled sleepily.

“Please don’t go,” he mumbled, “but if you gotta go, then yeah.”

Prompto sat up with Ignis, cuddled against his side as tight as he could, as if afraid that if he didn’t have as much contact with Ignis as possible, he’d leave sooner. Even so, he ate crumbly pieces of warm, fresh scone dabbed with clotted cream and little spoonfuls of marmalade from Ignis’ fingers and didn’t look nearly so sad when Ignis kissed the crumbs from around his lips.

But the time came.

Ignis toed his shoes on and straightened his tie, as Prompto dutifully waited a few paces back with his hands laced behind his back, rocking on his heels. “If you come to the coffee shop near the Citadel, the one a block from the gates, we can still have breakfast together every day.” Ignis put on a mild smile. “It’s only a few days, and I’ll be back.”

“I know. You always do come back.” Prompto’s smile was wobbly, though his eyes were wet already. Ignis’ heart sank with dismay - had he not done enough to reassure Prompto? - but Prompto stepped in and cupped Ignis’ face in his hands. “When you come back? Can we do something special?”

It was a question, tentative and wanting. Ignis wondered if Prompto had heard promises like that before, promises that were broken too often. 

“How would you like to have hotpot with Noctis and Gladio?” He took Prompto’s hand from behind his back, laced his fingers between his, and brought Prompto’s knuckles to his lips for another kiss. “I can even text you a list of ingredients to pick up at the store, and when I get home, we’ll cut them up together before Noctis and Gladio arrive.”

Prompto’s eyes lit up. “For real? That sounds awesome! It’ll be great to just unwind together.”

“It will.” Ignis felt mirth like a bubble in his throat, even as Prompto wiped away a stray tear. “I’ll call you at lunch and in the evenings.”

“I’ll be on the line like Noct was reeling me in.” 

“You’ll get the hook.” Ignis tickled his cheek, and Prompto laughed softly. Ignis' heart warmed over, face flushing, and he enjoyed Prompto's face a moment longer before, effectively, cutting the cord and pulling himself away. “See you soon?”

“See you soon.” Prompto let Ignis go, blinking back another tear and smearing his eyes. He was still smiling, and looked happy even though his face was wet, as Ignis picked up his suitcase and left. He shut the door quickly so Prompto wouldn’t see that he was crying too.

He hated to leave to tears, but it couldn’t be helped. 


	10. Carry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio struggles under the weight of destiny. Ignis comes to help bear the load.

**10: Carry**

"Gladiolus." 

Gladio hadn't gotten the full name treatment since his father was alive. 

Then again, three-shots-ago Gladio had faintly mused that he hadn't gotten this drunk since his father had died.

No, the only person left in the world, let alone anywhere near this ramshackle hunters' dive bar, was Ignis Scientia, and as much as Gladio would love to see his father again, would love for him to be alive, would give his whole heart to the gods if it would change the course of his life and fate if it meant having back some of what he'd lost, he didn't want Ignis anywhere near him right now. 

"Gladiolus," Ignis repeated firmly, and Gladio scowled as the steady tap-tap-tap of the cane he barely even needed anymore approached him. "Gladiolus, Prompto called and asked me to come take care of you."

"If you're here to settle my tab," Gladio groused, and tipped his half-empty glass towards the bartender. "Talk to him. Otherwise, I'm fine." He wasn't so drunk that he didn't know how drunk he was. And yes, he was pretty bad. But he wasn't going to sit here and be scolded by someone he… respected, when he could settle this himself with a long nap in his car and a dozen aspirin in the morning.

"You know that's not true." Ignis kept his voice soft, though, even blind, he was likely aware that the other Hunters were already giving all of them wide berth. "You're quite intoxicated."

"I know that, and you know that." Gladio out his glass down a little too hard, denying Ignis the satisfaction of getting him to face him. It would just mean staring into scars he couldn't prevent. "And I know you're not stupid. Go away. I'm fine on my own."

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be having screaming matches with Prompto and drinking alone." Ignis put a hand over Gladio's where he still gripped the glass, his thumb brushing between his knuckles. "We can find you so rarely. We worry, especially when we can find you and discover you're getting yourself this sick."

"I'm not sick, I'm drunk," Gladio hissed. "I just want to drink. Preferably, by myself. Is there something wrong with that?"

"You're an intelligent man," Ignis replied evenly, without malice but with clear intent. "You don't need me to answer that." He felt for the stool beside Gladio's and seated himself without releasing Gladio's hand from the glass. "What you can answer - and honestly, please - is why."

Ignis' palm pressed down over Gladio's hand, and though some of him wanted to throw him off and scream at him like he had Prompto, he knew it wouldn't satisfy Ignis. "Are you here in remembrance?"

"No," Gladio ground out, as Ignis pinned his wrist down. "To forget. To forget that it's been six fucking years since I failed Noct. Six years, Ignis! What kind of Shield-" He choked on the sentiment, but Ignis seized his hand. 

“You did not fail. We have done everything in our power, and will continue to do so.” His grip became bruisingly tight. “What we must do is survive, so that when he returns, we are all ready and waiting to receive him, and stand at his side again.” Ignis leaned forward, forcing Gladio to look at him.

All of the anger that had been bubbling in Gladio’s chest got washed back at the sight of Ignis’ scarred visage, the clear and present reminder of Gladio’s failure in Altissia (he’d thought himself so strong after facing the Blademaster, how could he have let that happen?). Suddenly, the memory of Prompto running out of the bar a few hours ago was so fresh (Gladio couldn’t help but wonder if Prompto wouldn’t be a shell-shocked mess if he hadn’t fallen off of the train, if Gladio had just been there to save the day when Prompto needed him). He was left speechless, and Ignis filled the void: 

"What's done is done. We can only carry on." Ignis' expression was meaningful, every word loaded: "Is this how you wish to go forward? Drunk, angry, and alone?"

Gladio didn't trust his mouth, so he shook his head. 

"Good." Ignis said, then took the glass from Gladio and took it in one slug. He sucked in air after as a chaser, then stood with a sigh. "Then let's get you back to our room and clean you up."

Ignis rose gracefully all at once, and Gladio tried to do the same. However, his legs wobbled under him as he stood, and the moment he put weight on them, he could feel his knees nearly give out under him. He caught himself on the edge of the bar just in time to keep himself from collapsing into a heap on the floor. He swallowed, then ground out, "I think I'm drunker'n I thought."

"Ah. Then, perhaps, is walking beyond you at the moment?" Ignis pursed his lips. Gladio nodded, forgetting Ignis couldn't see that, but he didn't really need to. Instead, he offered Gladio his shoulder. "Come on. I can carry you through this, too." 

Gladio winced at his own weakness, then gratefully put his arm around Ignis' shoulder, expecting him to bolster him so they could walk together. Instead, Ignis nearly effortlessly swept Gladio off his feet into a bridal carry. 

After all, Ignis had spent the last six years getting stronger. Strong enough to carry the weight of his own heavy heart, and Gladio and Prompto's too. Of course he could carry Gladio.

"Hold my cane, would you?" Ignis nodded towards the spot where he'd propped the cane, and Gladio grabbed it and held it to his chest as Ignis walked, heavily but steadily, towards the door.

Gladio was grateful he was too drunk to make out the faces of the other Hunters they passed on the way out. Instead, he sank into Ignis' arms, knowing he needed him like the others needed him to get up from this and keep going. Somewhere in his muddled thoughts, he realized nobody had carried him anywhere like this since his dad had been alive, and nobody ever would again. 

Because his dad was gone, and the world he’d protected was too. Gladio had to be the next one to raise the Shield and carry on the tradition. No matter how long it took to overcome his failures, he would stand up and keep going.

For now, he leaned into Ignis’ hold, and let him carry him into the darkness.


	11. Pillow Fort/Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The simplest things can stave off a difficult day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep trying to write something that's just Promptis, but it keeps ending up as OT4, haha...

**11: Pillow Fort/Baking**

The rain drummed the windows, echoing in the hallway, as Prompto knocked on Noctis’ door. He’d gotten a text that just said _“plz come over”_ and had hurried from school to the apartment he’d helped move Noctis into barely two months prior. However, he’d been outside the door for five minutes knocking now, with no response. He’d been worried when Noctis hadn’t come to school and hadn’t answered any of his texts asking what was up during the day, right up until he asked him to come over, but now he was seriously concerned. 

He sent a text to Ignis, asking _“Is Noct ok???”_ Then, he knocked again, and called, “Hey, Noct? Dude, it’s me!”

That actually got an answer, Noctis’ wobbly voice through the door: “It’s unlocked.”

Prompto opened the door, and found the apartment dark except for the faint light that peeked through the dense, drowning clouds. Noctis was sprawled on the sofa, twisted like pasta that had been strung out on the counter to dry. Prompto got a response from Ignis as he shut the door, and quickly checked it:

_“He’s having a back pain day. I’ll be there shortly.”_

“Hey buddy,” Prompto said, not too loud, as he tucked his phone away. Noctis craned his neck around and looked at him blearily, then lifted a weak hand. 

“Hey.” His voice was scratchy and hoarse. Prompto’s heart sank, and he put his school bag down and dropped his jacket on top of it, then took off his shoes.

“Been there all day, huh?”

“Yup.” Noctis turned his face back down into the pillow. “Sorry I’m not much fun. I just didn’t want to be alone. You want to throw on a movie or something?”

“Sure!” Prompto grinned. “But first, if you’re going to be stuck here on the couch, how about we make the couch fun?”

* * *

Ignis arrived at the apartment about twenty minutes after Prompto texted him, and opened the door to find that the entire living room was covered in a canopy of spare sheets and tablecloths, propped up on chairs and held together with rubber bands and potato chip clips. The sofa and television were encompassed in the massive pillow fort, and Ignis could hear music coming from under the sheets stretched over the sofa. He put the grocery bag down and peered under the sheets, and saw Noctis where he likely had been all day, propped up with spare pillows from the bed, with Prompto sitting on a cushion on the floor in front of him, holding two mugs of cocoa. Prompto was in the middle of taking a sip out of one, and looked over at Ignis with a hint of guilt in the way he hunched his shoulders and his sheepish smile. 

“Hi Iggy.” He waved a little, as Noctis held out his hand. 

“Cocoa me.”

“Oh, sure, here.” Prompto passed Noctis his mug, as Ignis got onto his hands and knees. 

“I see you’re trying to make things a bit more comfortable here. Noctis, do you need your heat pack?”

“I wore it out earlier.” Noctis shook his head. “I just need to wait for the rain to pass.”

“I see.” Ignis rubbed his chin, weighing the costs and benefits of forcing Noctis back to his feet against letting him rest and relax. The pain still obviously apparent in Noctis' eyes made the decision for him. “Carry on, then.”

“Wait, do you wanna come in, too?” Prompto caught his sleeve as he made to stand. Ignis paused a moment.

“I would.” He bit the sentiment off, but got up. “However, I have a thing or two to take care of, first. Keep a spot warm for me.”

Prompto groaned, but nodded, and took Noctis’ cocoa mug as Noctis, grimacing, lowered himself back to a prone position. 

Ignis returned to the kitchen, knowing there was only one way he could truly help right now. 

* * *

When Gladio arrived to check in half an hour later, he stopped in the door at the sight of the pillow fort. There was a tray of still-warm sugar cookies on the counter, and Gladio could see light flashing through the canopies, brighter than the light from outside, and heard the audio from an old favorite action movie. He peeked under the canopy and saw Prompto and Ignis sitting on the floor with cocoa, as Noctis took up the whole sofa. Bad back day, he knew in an instant.

“Did you use the heat pack?” He asked in a low rumble. Ignis glanced over, and Prompto turned towards Noctis. Noctis nodded. “Did you do your stretches?”

“Can’t. I’m kinda locked up.”

“I’m gonna get the heat pack again, and some anti-inflammatories.”

“Gladio,” Noctis mumbled. “I already did. I used the heat pack and took the medicine. Can fixing me wait until the rain passes?”

He narrowed his eyes, but then noticed there was a fourth mug of cocoa waiting next to a plate of the sugar cookies. Prompto picked up the cocoa and held it out to him, and Ignis, straight-faced, offered him a cookie.

“When it stops raining, fine.” He crawled in and settled in next to Ignis, accepting his cocoa and cookie and that Noctis wasn’t moving for a little while.

None of them would really ask him to just yet. 

The rain still beat the windows at a marching tempo, but in their new house, all they could hear was the movie and each other’s quiet voices around bites of warm cookies and sips of cocoa. Simple comfort was the only cure for a day like this.


	12. Sick/ "Your Hands Are Shaking"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feverish and weak, Ignis is comforted by a shaking hand...

**12: Sick/ “Your hands are shaking.”**

Someone was wiping the sweat from his brow - soft hands, gentle hands, but with a few leather-smooth calluses around the fingertips. Ignis tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t. Instead, he turned and leaned into the touch. He’d been feverish for as long as he could fathom now, but everything before this moment and everything that was to come were a blur, naught but a maelstrom in his mind.

“Ignis?” Those cool fingers touched his forehead, and Ignis twisted against the bed. He was still too weak to move, too exhausted to do more than writhe like a worm. However, he still knew that voice, as Prompto turned his palm against Ignis’ forehead. “Hey, you awake?”

“Your hands are shaking.” Gods, his voice was ruined from screaming. He must have been a horrible sight. Prompto’s breathing sounded uneven. “Are you alright?”

“He asks me if I’m alright,” Prompto muttered, half-humored, half-sarcastic. “You’re the one…” Prompto trailed off, audibly swallowing and his hand moving down to take Ignis’. “You’re the one still just hanging on by a thread.”

Ignis hummed inquisitively. He had some vague recollection that he had done something reckless and necessary, but his head was so hot he couldn’t recall exactly what.

“You’ve got a fever,” Prompto told him, and squeezed his hand. “You’re hurt and exhausted, but it’s gonna be okay.” Prompto’s hand quaked in his. “‘Cause I’m here. And I’m gonna make sure...” He never told Ignis what he would be sure of. His grip crept further up Ignis’ arm, and finally clasped, scrabbling for purchase as if Ignis’ might fall away. “I’m here for you now.”

“I’m grateful,” Ignis whispered, and winked one eye open. He could make out light and shadow, if only faintly, but Prompto’s shadow in his vision was a welcome darkness, and a relief from the inside of his own eyelids.

“Yeah? Okay. Yeah.” Prompto still sounded unsteady, but he released Ignis’ hand. A moment later, there was a cool compress on his head. “So, I’m just. I’m gonna be right here. I’m gonna help you drink water, and I’m gonna spoonfeed you anything I can get into your mouth, and I’m gonna make you eat fever breakers, until you’re feeling better.” Prompto shifted - turning around, perhaps? Ignis had no idea what was behind him. Ignis couldn’t imagine what else was going on around them, but there was nothing more he could do about it today.

Instead, he left himself at Prompto’s fingertips, entrusting his care to shaking fingertips and a steady heart. “Thank you. I’ll do my best to heal quickly for you.”

Prompto laughed softly, strained, and took Ignis’ hand again. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here for you.”

His fingers were still shaking when Ignis closed his eyes to the comfort of the cool compress and the welcoming darkness.


	13. Stargazing/Caught in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis shares the night sky with Prompto, and everything that comes with it.

**13: Stargazing/Caught in the Rain**

“This one is Bahamut.” Noctis toed the barrier from his apartment rooftop deck as he pointed out towards the East, and Prompto sidled up directly next to him. “Okay, see that red one directly above that string of four little white ones?”

“Yeah?” Prompto squinted a little, and Noctis watched his eyes until he focused and nodded. “Okay, yeah.”

“Okay.” Noctis pointed, letting Prompto slot himself in front of him as they looked into the inky night sky. “Now, if you look left, right below that cloud that kind of looks like a cactuar, there’s a line of three blue stars?” Prompto pressed his back against Noctis’ chest, humming as he looked.

“Okay, I see it.”

“So, starting at the red star, you go across those blue stars, then go to the four brightest white stars straight out from their line.” Noctis traced a line in the sky, then took Prompto’s hand in his and used it to trace the same line. “That’s Bahamut’s sword.”

“Oh!” Prompto laughed. “I get it! Are there stars for the hilt?”

Noctis chuckled and traced the line back to the blue stars, Prompto's hand cupped in his and guiding Prompto's finger like a pointer. “Yeah, start from the middle star there? There’s a few clouds covering the one, but if you look down a little from there, there’s a medium white star.” Noctis closed his hand around Prompto’s. “And that’s the hilt. Bahamut. Or, uh, his sword, I guess.”

He’d stargazed with Ignis when they were little, and Ignis would read him the tales of the Cosmogony as he spoke of the constellations, telling him all the stories of the distant history which placed the stars in the sky. He told Noctis of the great meteor that Titan caught, of the romance between Ifrit and Shiva, of Ramuh reviving the scorched land with blessed rain, of Bahamut selecting the first King of Insomnia. Noctis committed those stories to memory when he was small, though now he could probably only repeat summaries. When he did survival training with Gladio, Gladio taught him to navigate by the stars in case he didn’t have a compass or a GPS. He still remembered the most important parts: the star of Eos was due north in summer and fall, but if you can see Titan’s hand, Eos is north by northwest. Ramuh’s brow was west, but watch his staff to tell if his brow is leaning north or south. Follow Shiva and you’ll reach Tenebrae, eventually. 

Noctis liked stargazing now for no other reason than the privilege of doing it with Prompto, and sharing the starlight.

“Okay, so, where’s Leviathan?” Prompto turned in the circle of Noctis’ arms, eyes alight, but the stars were starting to vanish. Those few clouds that had been obscuring their view were starting to cloak the sky quickly, and Noctis felt a stiff breeze like a curtain passing over them.

“Uh, coming, I think.”

The first drop fell, fat and hard, on the tip of Prompto’s nose, and Prompto yelped and smeared the wetness away. Noctis took Prompto by the hands again, this time leading him to the door just as the rain began to pour down. Noctis scrambled to get the door open, only to find it had locked behind them. Prompto squealed and pulled his school jacket off then threw it over both of their heads so Noctis could get his apartment key out.

“Damn it, I guess while we were looking at the heavens, they were looking back and went, ‘well wouldn’t  _ this _ be funny!” Prompto laughed as Noctis finally managed to get the door open and scrambled in, shutting the rain out behind Prompto. Their attempts to run from the rain had been futile, as the two of them were already sopping wet. They looked at each other, wet hair flat and sopping on their faces, shirts soaked through, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wanna go get a towel?” Noctis took the first few steps back down, glancing back.

“Yeah, we can look the stars up on Moogle.” Prompto grinned and followed, yanking his shirt off as they walked and wringing it out. Noctis snorted.

“It’s just not the same.” He let Prompto pass him, suddenly captivated by the freckles trailing over Prompto’s back. 

He wondered if maybe he could find Bahamut and Ramuh on those pretty little spots, then shook the thought off. He would be happier creating new stories on Prompto’s skin, and telling their new legend together as they found their way forward.


	14. Laughing and Singing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dawn is greeted with laughter and song.

**14: Laughing and Singing**

“Do you remember,” Prompto said, staring towards the brightening horizon, too tired to get off the steps where he’d finally collapsed but unable to let himself rest yet, “when we left?”

Gladio hummed. His sword had fallen from his grip long ago, and Ignis’ daggers were on the ground about fifty yards away, in the corpse of a dissolving Arachne. Ignis himself was propped up against Gladio, and Gladio reached over and put an arm over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah. Shit, yeah.” He chuckled a little, squinting towards the skyline, the ruins of Insomnia, the broken glass windows touched with light for the first time in ten years. “The car broke down on us not fifty miles outside of the Wall.”

“You three got out and pushed,” Ignis added. “And of course, it was the hottest day of summer-”

“Seriously, send us out in the middle of summer, why don’t you, _Your Majesty?”_ Prompto snickered. “Nah, it was the day after Noct’s birthday, so, I guess twenty is old enough to get married off.”

“Noct wouldn’t have been ready to get married at forty,” Gladio snorted, shaking his head. “He was still basically a big kid to the last when it came to that.”

“I would disagree,” Ignis said, and Prompto noticed him turning his face towards a gap between the buildings. “He was more mature than we gave him credit for.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Gladio shrugged, lowering his eyes. “He always came through when it mattered.”

There was a long beat of silence, as the light spread, inch by inch, up the steps towards the broken Citadel.

“But the car!” Prompto raised his hand. “Oh man, with the car! He was so mad about it!”

“‘Dad gave me a lemon,’ I believe he grumbled,” Ignis said with a chuckle. “I still wonder if King Regis knew the car would give out.”

“We’ll never know, will we?” Gladio shook his head, but sidled a little closer to Ignis. Prompto scooted closer too, and Gladio extended his other arm to put it around his shoulder for a moment, his big hand just reaching. “And anyway, why are you talking about Noct complaining when you were the biggest moaner between the two of you!” He laughed sharply and slapped Prompto on the back. “You were the one laying flat on the asphalt, going, ‘I’ve pushed myself to the brink of death!’ Drama queen.”

“Hey, pushing that car in the desert was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life up until that point! I thought we'd die out there and none of us would ever see home again!” Prompto snorted and elbowed Gladio in the ribs. “If only we’d known, right?”

“Yeah.” Gladio stilled, and put his arm back around Prompto’s shoulder, heavy and tight, startling Prompto out of his put-on smile. “We got it done, though, right?”

“Yes,” Ignis murmured, and he reached over to take Prompto's hand, as Prompto blinked back a few surprised tears. “So we did.”

"Y-yeah. All four of us, we did it. Together." Prompto squeezed Ignis' hand back and put his face against Gladio's shoulder. "We made it home."

They sat together in silence, side by side by side, their back to the Citadel, the daemons still dissolving into ink-black dust all around them, and the sun creeping up the horizon. They knew what was behind them, and they all still remembered what had come to pass. The story was theirs to tell now, and they all hoped that someday, when they laughed about it, they’d mean it.

“Hey.” Prompto glanced over to Ignis and Gladio again. “You remember that song, the one that was playing on the radio?”

Ignis snapped his fingers. “Ah. I think I do. With that illuminary songstress?”

“I think it’s an older song, but that was a more recent cover.” Gladio leaned a little heavier on Prompto and Ignis, weighed down by exhaustion and memories. “I remember not being able to enjoy it because I was so damn pissed at the car.”

“We can still enjoy it now. We have the time. We have the rest of our lives, now.” Prompto closed his eyes, and recalled the words: _“When the night has come, and the land is dark.”_

_“And the moon,”_ Ignis continued, _“Is the only light we’ll see.”_

_“No I won’t be afraid,”_ Prompto sang, and Gladio joined:

_“No I won’t be afraid, just so long…”_

_“As you stand,”_ Ignis sang, voice wavering, and the three of them held tight there, one last shadow huddled in the growing light, _“Stand by me…”_

The three of them raised their voices to the air, hoping somehow, somewhere, Noctis was singing along: _“So darling, darling, stand by me…”_


End file.
